


Closer To God

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Religious Family, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 11:41:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19005073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: She’s the daughter of a preacher, wild and out of control, approaching her twenties with lightning speed and she’s head over heels in love with Jax Teller. Can they make it work?





	1. Chapter 1

“There is an old saying that says, “A loving God wouldn’t send anyone to hell.” That is a true statement. But what we forget is that God does not send us to hell - we send ourselves.”

Your father’s eyes burned into you and you stared back in defiance, well aware that he was speaking directly to you. He continued with his sermon and you let it fade into background noise, shifting uncomfortably in the pew. Beside you, your mother scowled, glancing at you disapprovingly.

You couldn’t help it. The bruises on your thighs made it awkward to sit and every jolt of discomfort caused memories from last night to bubble to the surface. It was a wonder you didn’t groan out loud at the thought.

The lecture about sin went on and you fiddled with the hem of your knee-length black skirt. You were always dressed conservatively for church - if you’d dressed how you’d snuck out of the house last night, your father would probably pitch a fit and set you on fire himself.

Honestly, what did they expect?

At twenty years of age, you should have been out exploring the world, making friends and enjoying lovers and instead, you were stuck in Charming, CA, and your only option for excitement was Jax Teller.

He was barely a year older, blond and as rough round the edges as they came. Your father hated him and his family, citing them as the problem with your quaint little desert hometown. The first time he’d caught you at the clubhouse, he’d called the police and the embarrassment almost hadn’t been worth it.

But god, the way Jax made you feel was worth  _ everything _ .

Your father liked to believe you were pristine and pure, waiting for a good man to come along and provide you with a family, with a nice little house where you could assume the role your mother had been dying in for years.

The prospect of losing your autonomy a piece at a time sounded like the very hell he described in his sermons.

You hadn’t been pristine or pure since you were fifteen years old and Jimmy Ganning from senior year stuck his hands down your pants behind the bleachers. The sexual thrill that came with the behavior only drove you to seek more and by the time you hit your seventeenth birthday, you’d turned getting your fill of men into a fine art.

Jax Teller was no different.

His mother hated you; you assumed his mother hated any woman that came near her son on principle and Jax told you to ignore her. You would wait until your mother and father went to bed, usually around nine, and sneak out through the window in your bedroom.

Years of practice had you silent as the grave when you tiptoed along the low roof underneath your room and the small jump into the open backyard of the church wasn’t enough to slow you down. Within twenty minutes, you’d be on the back of Jax’s bike, speeding down the highway.

Last night was his twenty-first birthday. You hadn’t bothered to wash the scent of stale beer out of your hair before you’d thrown on your good little girl costume and your mother knew exactly where you’d been.

Her whispered “harlot” at the breakfast table had only made you smile.

The sermon went on and you struggled to stay awake - your entire body ached and longed for bed. You’d barely made it back through your bedroom window before dawn, only minutes before your mother was knocking to wake you for church.

You looked up at the statue of Jesus behind the altar, his stone eyes almost as condemning as your father’s. What did God care if you had a little fun? Life was for living, not wallowing in misery until you eventually died.

When it was finally over, you slipped from your seat, aiming to escape but your mother’s fingers snatched at your jacket sleeve, holding you in place. “Where are you going?” she hissed, glaring at you.

“I came to church, Mom,” you scowled, pulling yourself free, “I’m not obligated to do any more than that.”

“As long as you live under our roof -”

“Mary!” One of your over-friendly neighbors caught your mother’s attention and you smirked wickedly, taking advantage of the situation. Your mother was distracted for only a few seconds - long enough for you to slip through the crowd and make your way -

“Where are you going?” Your father’s voice mimicked your mother’s question and you sighed, shoulders slumping as you turned to face the stern priest. “Sneaking out to see that boy again?” He didn’t give you a chance to answer, grabbing hold of your arm. “You’re coming home for Sunday lunch.”

“I’m not hungry,” you seethed, struggling against him. He wouldn’t cause a scene in front of his parishioners.

“Mary?” he called over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off of you. Your mother excused herself, rushing over at her husband’s beck.

“Yes, Donald?”

“Take Y/N home,” he instructed firmly, releasing your arm with an air of disgust. “She’s feeling unwell.”

“Like hell -” you growled but your mother was already obeying his order, pushing you toward the vestry door. Silencing your protests, she waited until the door was closed before she turned on you, hissing so the others in the church didn’t hear.

“What is your problem, girl?”

Her face was filled with fury and while she stood at the same height as you, years of intimidation made you feel smaller. Despite her wrath, you stood firm, keeping the scowl on your face. “You’re my fucking problem,  _ mother _ ,” you spat.

The sound of her hand colliding with your cheek echoed through the small corridor and you gasped, clutching at the heated patch of skin.

“You’re a whore,” Mary growled, “a filthy whore. An embarrassment to me and your father.”

“Maybe you should have beat me harder,” you snarled back, your temper flaring. It wasn’t the first time she’d struck you but it would absolutely be the last.

You had somewhere to run now.

Thrusting your arms out, you pushed your mother’s shoulders hard, sending her crashing back into the heavy wooden door. She shrieked and flailed, only managing to break her fall a little, her wrist bending awkwardly on impact.

Without waiting, you turned and ran, using your knowledge of the aged building to escape it. Your car was parked outside the house, a bag already in the trunk for when you’d hoped this day would come. 

The last thing you saw in the rearview mirror was your father standing at the doors to the church, his face almost red with anger. You laughed, throwing the car into a higher gear and slamming your foot down, letting the wind toss your hair around behind you.

Jax was sitting in the yard with Opie Winston, his best friend, when you pulled up. He grinned, getting to his feet, an unlit cigarette dangling from his plush lips.

“Hey, darlin’,” he drawled, removing the cigarette and crossing the short distance to your battered old three-door. “Thought you’d be trapped in church until this afternoon.” 

You got out of the car, letting him push you against the door as it closed. For a second, you lost yourself in his touch, humming into his mouth, tasting nicotine and beer on his tongue.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he muttered, grinding against your thigh, “but why are you here?”

“I think I might have just got kicked out,” you admitted, running your fingers through his messy hair. “All yours if you want it.”

Grinning, Jax slid his hands down to your ass, cupping and kneading it. “Took you long enough.” He kissed you again, earning a noise of disgust from Opie. The doors to the clubhouse opened and Clay walked out, Tigs a few steps behind him.

“Put it down, Jax. You got work to do,” the older man barked, his cigar exuding a cloud of smoke as he walked down the steps.

Jax pulled away, his smile not wavering and his eyes fixed on yours. “Yessir,” he replied, giving you one last peck on the corner of your mouth. “Go wait in the clubhouse. Some of the other girls are in there.”

He slapped your ass and you slunk off with a smile, passing by Clay and Tigs, who both leered at you. The larger men made you wary despite Jax telling you that they weren’t a threat. You slipped through the door, pleased to see Tanya and Melanie at the bar.

“Hey,” Tanya greeted, winking at her. “You snuck out early this morning.”

Your cheeks heated as you took a seat next to her, reaching out for the peanuts. “Last time I’ll have to do that,” you quipped.

It was nice, not having to stick to the rules. You felt a sense of freedom that you only glimpsed briefly before. Even though Jax was gone for hours, hanging out in the bar with the girls was fun. With some music on the jukebox and a few beers, it turned into a party.

Mid-afternoon brought a sweaty, grease-covered Jax back indoors and it took little coaxing to get you away from the girls. 

He showered while you waited in his bedroom, judging yourself in the full-length mirror. Your conservative Christian girl outfit was crumpled and there was a ladder in the left leg of your pantyhose from your ankle to your thigh.

The bathroom door opened and Jax walked out, a towel barely clinging to his waist. He smirked at you, crossing the room quickly; you wasted no time in untucking the towel, letting it drop. Lowering yourself to your knees, you wrapped one hand around his cock, pumping it slowly as you looked up at him.

Jax hummed, tipping his head back, one hand pressed to the top of yours. You smiled and took him into your mouth, licking and sucking. “Didn’t you get enough last night?” he growled, forcing you to release him. “Take this shit off.”

You plucked at the buttons of your blouse but your movements weren’t quick enough for him. His arms bulged as he hauled you to your feet, gripped your shirt in the middle and tore it apart, sending buttons flying. 

“My good little Christian,” he mocked, trailing a finger down the side of your face. “Daddy finally figured out what a little slut you are, huh?” Licking your lips, you let him pull at your skirt, the zipper giving easily. “Hands and knees on the bed, sweetheart. Wanna make you scream.”

He was cocky and completely full of himself - it only turned you on more. Getting onto the bed, you placed your knees hip width apart, groaning like a porn star when Jax ran his hands over your ass. Your pantyhose were no barrier and with the ladder, they ripped more easily and he didn’t bother removing your panties, hooking them to the side with one finger.

“Wet already?” he purred, dragging a finger through your soaked folds. “Sitting in church thinking about me, huh?” You nodded with a gasp when his hand landed on your ass. “Daddy’s preaching and you’re thinking about nothing but getting railed.”

“You,” you whimpered, his fingers slowly filling you, “I was thinking about you.”

“Thinking what about me?”

“Last night.”

Jax laughed under his breath, scissoring two thick fingers inside you, the rings on his fingers cool against your labia. “What about last night? Tell me what your dirty little mind was thinkin’.” He kept moving his hand and you gasped, lowering your head and trying to concentrate.

“You fucked me,” you whispered, eyes closed, a mewl in your voice with each thrust of his fingers, “you fucked me over the back seat of your bike.”

He grinned, pulling his fingers free. “I just fucked you?” One fingertip pressed against your asshole and you gasped. “Or did I fuck your tight little ass?”

You groaned, your whole body shuddering. “You fucked my ass, Jax.”

“You liked it.”

“Yes,” you hissed, pussy clenching around nothing. “Please, Jax -”

“Hmmm,” his cockhead pressed against your hole, “you’re all mine now, sweetheart.” With one thrust, he was inside you, twitching as you shook with unbridled lust. You didn’t give him a chance to acclimate, rolling your hips, desperate to take all of him. “Horny little slut.”

You nodded and writhed, whining loudly as Jax started to rock into you, his pelvis slapping against your ass. The bed thudded with each smack of skin-on-skin, neither of you caring who heard. Jax reached over, grabbing the back of your bra and unhooking it. You shrugged the offending material off, lifting yourself to toss it away, only to find Jax’s hand twisting in your hair.

“You’re mine,” he snarled, hips snapping viciously.

The door burst open and you shrieked, the sound drowned out by Jax yelling indignantly. Clay stood in the doorway, seething.

“Goddamn cops are here,” he growled, picking up Jax’s cut and tossing it at him. “They want her.”

Jax ground his teeth together, glaring at his step-father. “They can fucking wait until I’m done.” Rolling his eyes, Clay shook his head but made no move to leave. You covered your tits with one arm, hiding your face as much as you could. “Do they got a warrant?”

“No,” Clay grunted. 

“Then they can fucking wait,” Jax snapped back, his hips slowly starting to roll again. Clay sighed and slammed the door shut. “What they want you for, baby?”

The demand was thrown in as he’d started to pick up pace, his cock throbbing inside you. You could barely answer, which only pissed him off and he grabbed your neck with one meaty hand, hauling you backward against his chest.

“Tell. Me.” His words were punctuated with hard thrusts that made you cry out.

“My mom… I pushed her…” you gasped out, unwittingly more aroused by his rough touch. “She fell.”

Jax huffed, fucking into you harder, his fingers tightening around your throat. You cried out, voice hoarse as you came, his own end coming seconds after. He pulled out, spurting thick ropes of cum over your back, letting you slump onto the mattress.

“You wanna go?” he asked.

“Of course not,” you replied, sleepily. “But he’ll only get a warrant.”

He sighed, slapping your ass lightly as he sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for his cigarettes. You declined when he offered you one, moving to sit next to him. “We could run away,” he suggested; you smiled, shaking your head.

“You wouldn’t leave,” you murmured, chewing your lip. “My dad has no power over me, Jax. I can tell him to go to hell. I’m old enough -”

“He’s only gonna keep making things hard for you,” he interrupted. “Y/N…”

“What?”

His eyes were earnest as he looks at you. “You know I love you, right?”

You smiled, leaning in to kiss him, tasting the cigarette smoke on his lips. “I know. And I love you. I’m gonna figure this out, I promise.”

*****

Everything you owned was packed into boxes and bags, the only home you’d ever known standing empty. This was it. 

You knew something else had happened here. This wasn’t just because you’d fallen in love with a Son. It was because of something much bigger. And you couldn’t help but feel like Gemma Teller had something to do with it.

“Let’s go,” your mother ordered and your gaze dropped to the cast on her wrist. She’d broken it when she fell and of course, the way they’d made it sound, you’d beaten ten levels of hell out of her before absconding to your pimp.

They’d made it clear that they would press charges and push for the heaviest penalty. You’d be facing jail time and it would forever haunt you.

You kept quiet as you slid into the backseat of your father’s station wagon. Your car sat on the driveway - its new owner was collecting it later. Everything was changing.

There really was no escape.

“Things will be different in Washington,” Donald muttered as he turned the key in the ignition. You didn’t reply, staring out of the window as the car trundled through Charming. The usual group of bikes was on the main road, clustered in the parking spaces outside the small stores dotted along the street.

Jax was standing outside the barbers, watching. He caught sight of you, his face set with stubborn determination. Placing one hand against the window, you stared back sadly until you couldn’t see him anymore.

Maybe someday, you’d find your way back.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Sixteen years later… _

Things had changed.

Charming was still very much the  _ charming _ little town in Cali but now, half the shops were closed, huge sale signs in the windows of each run down little boutique. You’d heard the stories about the strip malls and housing developments that they’d been trying to get built, trying to turn the small town into a metropolis.

It seemed ridiculous.

Turning onto the main road through town, you kept your speed steady, eyes darting around for any sign of anyone you knew.

Even after sixteen years, your heart fluttered at the thought of Jax Teller.

There weren’t any motorcycles to be seen as you parked your car in the allocated space, climbing out to look at the front of your newest enterprise. Well, your first. George had always insisted you’d never make anything of your  _ ‘silly little hobby’ _ but you were determined to prove him wrong.

Not that it mattered. He was gone, good riddance, and you were finally free of any oppressive influences in your life with your father’s death only the month before. His inheritance had secured this little piece of Charming real estate, along with the apartment above, and you were determined to live your life the way you saw fit.

The store wasn’t in great condition and you’d expected that for the low price. From what you’d picked up on from the agent, the town was in the grip of a crisis - she’d warned you not to expect too much profit.

In truth, you didn’t need the money. You just wanted to do what you wanted to do.

For a damn change.

Making your way through the dusty shelves and overturned chairs, you found the backdoor and opened it, peering up the staircase to the dark apartment overheard. It was a little creepy; you pulled your phone from your pocket, turning on the flashlight.

The apartment wasn’t massive. The main hall led into the lounge and open-plan kitchen, with a moderately sized bathroom and shower, and a decent master bedroom. You hummed in approval as you opened the blinds in all the rooms, letting in some air.

Your new home was going to take work.

But at least it was yours.

*****

“Y/N?”

You looked up from your spot crouched on the ground, squinting when the bright midday sun caught your eyes. The former police officer stood in front of you, a confused but happy smile on his face. “Hey, Chief Unser,” you replied automatically and Wayne chuckled.

“I’m not Chief anymore,” he murmured, offering a hand for you to get to your feet. His eyes swept over the work you’d spent the better part of the morning on. “You bought this place?”

“Uh, yeah,” you shrugged, wiping your hands on your pants. “Not due to open for a while, got a lotta work to do.”

Wayne whistled through his teeth. “I’ll bet.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners a little more. “It’s good to see you, Y/N. How long’s it been? Fifteen years?”

“Sixteen,” you crossed your arms over your chest, “and this place has changed.”

“Possibly not for the better,” Wayne muttered, looking around. “I’m surprised you came back. I heard about your dad.”

You shrugged, sighing. “No love lost between us. I hadn’t seen him in years.” 

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for my part,” he confessed, his cheeks a little red. He’d been there that day, when your father had dragged you from the clubhouse, issuing his ultimatums. That event still played over and over in your head, more so since George had walked out, but it was in the past and you didn’t see the point in holding a grudge against a man who was doing his job and another who was dead.

“I made my peace with it,” you replied gently. “I was a stupid kid.” You took a deep breath, smiling brightly. “I missed this place. I don’t know what it is about Charming…”

“It’s charming,” Wayne interrupted, chuckling lightly. “I better get going. See you around, Y/N.”

Nodding, you watched him walk away, brushing your hair out of your eyes as a breeze whipped it around. In the distance, something rumbled and your heart felt like it constricted in your chest. You knew that sound. 

As if on cue, ten or fifteen motorbikes rounded the corner onto the main street, cruising at a low speed. The majority of them were choppers and you moved back against the window as the leader’s features became clear despite the helmet and sunglasses.

He’d aged well. The last bits of puppy fat he’d still had when you’d last seen him had melted away, leaving defined cheekbones and a hard jawline. His fingers clutched the handles of his bike, his gaze sweeping over his domain.

This town was his now.

It was obvious the second he saw you. The front wheel of his motorcycle wobbled a fraction, fingers tightening on the brake; like a flock of birds, the entire entourage turned as one, heading for the parking spaces a few stores down.

You swallowed and stepped back toward the door, hurrying inside. There was no way in hell he hadn’t recognized you and while you knew this confrontation had to happen, you weren’t sure you were prepared for it to happen so soon.

Grabbing the broom, you started to sweep the filthy floor, breathing through your nose to try and calm yourself. 

The door creaked as it opened and you kept your focus on what you were doing, not looking up. You knew who it was.

Jax sighed softly as the door closed behind him, his eyes taking you in. You knew you looked good - a decade of being someone’s good little housewife left you enough time to actually take care of yourself and those few pounds you’d gained early on were now toned muscle.

He didn’t say anything and your strokes with the broom started to slow. Daring to look up, your breath caught in your throat as you saw him, without the helmet or sunglasses.

You hadn’t been prepared.

Not in the slightest.

“Hey, darlin’,” he drawled, hooking his thumbs into the belt hoops on his faded Levi’s. “Long time.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, breathlessly.

Awkward silence followed, Jax’s lopsided grin just as boyish as you remembered. The door opened again, drawing your attention to Chibs as he walked in, Bobby close behind him. “Everythin’ okay?” Chibs asked, frowning at Jax.

“Yeah,” the younger man chuckled, “just old friends catchin’ up.”

Bobby moved past both of the other men, crossing the room to sweep you into a hug. You laughed in surprise, hugging him back. “It’s good to see you, Y/N,” the older man muttered, smirking as he pulled back, “missed seein’ your pretty face around the place.”

“Good to see you too, Bobby,” you grinned. “You look well.”

“Sexy as ever,” he leered and your smile widened. Chibs laid a hand on the other man’s shoulder, pulling him back.

“Why don’t we give these two kids a moment, ay?” He flashed you a smile that you returned and Bobby grinned, letting Chibs guide him out of the shop. Jax watched them leave before looking back at you.

“This your place now?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, holding your arms out briefly to gesture to your work in progress. “Hoping to stick around this time.”

He nibbled on the inside of his cheek, regarding you for a moment. When he stepped forward, you flinched a little and Jax frowned. “Everything okay?”

You smiled nervously. “A lots happened.”

“It’s been sixteen years,” he quipped, “I’d expect that.” Fidgeting awkwardly, you wrung your hands in front of yourself, avoiding his eyes. Jax sighed, tilting his head. “Why don’t you come over to the club for a drink? We can catch up.”

“Now?” You blinked, unsure and Jax laughed, shaking his head.

“Nah, I got business to take care of. Why don’t I pick you up, say six?”

“Er, yeah, I guess so, I mean, if you don’t have anything else -”

He was in your space the next second and his intoxicating scent only dragged up every memory from your teenage tryst, heat blossoming between your thighs. Jax’s smile didn’t waver as he lifted a hand to touch your cheek. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

“Okay,” you agreed instantly, the word a breathy whisper.

And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him. It felt like your legs were about to give out and you slumped down into the nearest chair, covering your face with your hands.

Time had done nothing to dampen your feelings, or apparently, his.

*****

Still waiting on your belongings left you with very few choices for an outfit. Settling on jeans and a Skynyrd shirt, you waited outside your store for Jax, enjoying the warm California evening. It was nice to feel the sunshine again - Washington was an entirely different climate.

The sound of his motorcycle had your heart racing and when Jax pulled up on his Harley, you smiled. He kicked the stand down, reaching around to produce the old helmet you’d had when you were a teenager.

“You kept it?” you asked, stunned as you wrapped your fingers around the familiar hardness. Jax grinned.

“Of course I did,” he murmured, watching you run your thumb over the pink skull sticker you’d put on the back as a joke when you’d been no more than eighteen. When you pulled it on, his grin widened. “Still perfect.”

You weren’t sure if he was referring to the helmet or not.

Climbing onto the back of the bike, you ignoring the flush of warmth that ran through you with Jax’s body pressed close to yours. He revved the engine and the vibrations made you gasp, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

“You good?” he called over the sound of the engine and you nodded, hugging his back tightly. The motorcycle roared as he shifted it away from the curb and the wind whipped your hair underneath the helmet.

It was like you’d never left at all.

The ride to the clubhouse was short but exhilarating - Jax went around the outside of town, past the new housing development and a few other places that hadn’t been there before you’d moved. You clung to his back, enjoying the ride and the closeness with your former paramour.

People were already milling about outside the clubhouse in the waning evening light, a thick cloud of smoke above them. It was noisy, nostalgic and as you climbed off the bike, waiting patiently for Jax, you spotted several familiar faces.

“You wanna head in?” Jax asked, sliding his hand around your hip. The slight touch was enough to have your knees shaking and you nodded. “I gotta go speak to Ope,” he muttered, “why don’t you get me a beer?”

Nerves flooded your belly. You weren’t a massive fan of walking into busy places alone - it wasn’t like you’d had a booming social life in Washington. “Sure,” you muttered, casting your eyes over to the throng of people chatting and laughing.

For half a second, you hoped Jax would kiss you but he didn’t; he pulled away with a smile, turning his back on you to walk across the yard.

You took a breath and steeled yourself, heading slowly toward the open bar doors. 

“Y/N!” The squeal of your name only preceded Tanya’s intense hug by a second or two and you laughed nervously as she embraced you. “Oh my god, I heard you were back!”

“Yeah,” you breathed, uncomfortably meeting her eyes when she pulled back to look at you. Over her shoulder, you saw Gemma Teller watching you, disapproval on her face. “You look great,” you said, ignoring the older woman’s piercing gaze. 

Tanya laughed loudly, throwing her head back. “Thanks, you look amazing! You have to tell me all about Washington. I heard you got married?” You didn’t have a chance to say anything as the other woman grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the bar. “Let’s get some cocktails and you can catch me up!”

*****

Twenty minutes later and you were relieved to see Jax wander into the bar, his eyes searching the crowd for you. As soon as he found you, his face lit up and he headed straight for you, interrupting Tanya’s lengthy tale about her two ex-husbands.

“You look a little uncomfortable,” he murmured, standing exceptionally close behind you, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Wanna go somewhere quiet?”

Tanya grinned, winking as you blushed. “Give the girl a chance, Jax. She’s only been back a day.”

You laughed at that, turning to put a little distance between you and the former love of your life. “Quiet sounds pretty good,” you admitted, picking up your beer - you’d declined the offer of cocktails, wanting to at least try and be responsible. “Outside?”

“Nah,” Jax grinned, “too public.”

Did he really think you’d fall right back into bed with him?

_ Who are you kidding? _ your brain supplied.  _ You’ve had sixteen years of little to awful sex and you still remember all the dirty little things he used to do to you. _

A tight smile pulled at your lips. “What did you have in mind?”

Jax took your hand, squeezing your fingers lightly. “Just to talk. I promise.”

Considering it took a couple of seconds but you nodded, giving in to his request and letting him guide you from the stool and through the bar. You ignored Tanya’s wolf-whistle and the knowing stares of some other Sons as Jax led you out into the hallway, the thick oak door shutting out the sound of the party as it closed.

“You know,” you said quietly, “your mother didn’t look too happy to see me.”

“Gemma ain’t happy with anyone,” Jax grunted back, stopping at the first door, the same bedroom he’d last had you in. Your thighs quivered with anticipation as you tried to remind yourself that you were only going to talk.

That was it.

You weren’t nineteen anymore and you weren’t dizzy with love for the young man Jax had been. Maybe he didn’t look much different, bigger obviously, but sixteen years in Charming, living the life he led?

There was no way he hadn’t changed.

The door shut with a definitive click and you hovered just inside, watching Jax slip his cut off, hanging it over a chair in the corner. “This place has changed,” you mumbled, looking around.

“A lot’s changed.” He turned to face you, smiling softly before he gestured to the couch underneath the window. “Wanna sit?”

“Sure.” Crossing the room, you took a seat on one side of the couch as Jax took another, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a packet of smokes. “You still smoke?” you asked, wrinkling your nose.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, opening the cigarettes, “but not as much. You?”

“No,” you confessed, laughing a little, “not for about ten years now.”

“Just cigarettes?” He held his hand out, showing you the very much not-a-cigarette he’d pulled from the packet. It was long and thin, coned into a flare at the end. Your eyes widened a fraction. “It’s only weed.”

“I know,” you muttered, looking away. “It’s been a long time, Jax… things…” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and leaning forward to balance your elbows on your knees. “Things changed for me. A lot.”

Jax nodded, lighting the joint. “I’m not gonna force ya. But it might help you relax a little. You’ve been like a lit fuse since you got on my ride.”

Nervous laughter bubbled out of your mouth and you glanced over at him. “I can’t even remember the last time I relaxed,” you commented. “Especially the last year. Getting out of Washington, the divorce -” Jax held out the joint again and you stared at it, hesitant to take the offer. He waited patiently, not pressuring you and slowly, you took it from him, bringing it to your lips.

You coughed instantly, puffing out the smoke you’d barely inhaled and Jax laughed, shaking his head as you giggled and attempted it again. The coughing was less on the second time around and the smoke flooded your lungs, the intoxicating chemical already working to relax every muscle in your body.

“Talk to me,” Jax murmured, one hand landing on your shoulder, his thumb stroking over the bare skin of your throat. “You were married?”

“Like you didn’t know,” you giggled, taking another hit and passing it back to him. Jax smiled, accepting it and taking a much deeper lungful of the drug than you had. You leaned back, unconsciously shifting a little more toward him.

He was right. It had helped.

Everything spilled out. You told him about the move, how trapped you’d felt and the arranged marriage to George. How he’d seemed sweet and caring, only to completely change after you’d been married. Your perceived failure to give him children had you almost crying into Jax’s shoulder and he remained silent, taking it all in.

“So when my mom died, I spent a lot of time caring for my dad. To be honest, when he died, and the divorce was done?” You closed your eyes, taking the joint back from Jax and inhaling deeper than your first time, getting used to the slight burn in your throat as you took it down. “I was kinda relieved.”

“And you decided to come back here?”

It was the first thing he’d said since you’d started your tale of woe and you nodded, meeting his eyes as you exhaled the smoke. “I never really felt at home in Washington. Charming was always…” You scoffed, laughing at yourself. “I half expected to find you married with a couple of kids by now.”

Jax gave you a lopsided grin. “Married? No.”

Your eyebrows shot up as you stubbed out the joint. “Kids?”

“One,” he admitted, “a boy. Abel. You can meet him if you like.”

The offer was a little too sudden. “Jax -”

“I never got over it,” he interrupted, turning to face you a little more. “When you left… damn, I was broken. I wanted to kill your father.” The admission made you suck in a breath and Jax’s smile was a little forced when he started to speak again. “Never stopped thinking about you.”

“Me either.” Your confession surprised you and you found yourself caught in his intense gaze. “Jax -”

He grinned, cupping your face with one hand. “I missed you saying my name, baby girl.”

A shuddered breath passed your lips. “We shouldn’t -”

“Why not?” Jax asked, frowning a little. “I know you still feel the same way.”

“A little full of yourself, Teller,” you murmured, drifting closer without even thinking about it. “Taking advantage of a vulnerable woman.”

“If there’s one word I’d never use to describe you,” he whispered, “it’s vulnerable.”

The kiss was soft and bittersweet, leaving you breathless when he pulled away too soon for your liking. His fingers slid up into your hair, holding you steady as you stared at him. “Is this really a good idea?”

“I waited sixteen years to kiss you again,” Jax breathed, stroking his thumb over your cheek. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

His lips met yours again, this kiss deeper, loaded with sexual aggression. All thoughts of telling him to stop flew out of your head and you fisted your hand in his t-shirt, gasping against his mouth. Jax took your response as a sign to continue, both hands cradling your head now as he devoured your lips.

“Bed,” you whimpered, prompting him to chuckle, his hands sliding to your waist as he got up, dragging you with him. His fingers tugged at your shirt, pulling it up over your head and tossing it to the side.

“Still gorgeous,” Jax leaned down, pressing his lips against the swell of your breasts, “god, you’re hot.” You giggled, watching hungrily as he pulled back, removing his own shirt, revealing his toned, tattooed physique.

He knew exactly what it did to you.

Maybe things hadn’t changed so much.

“You know what I always felt with you?” you whispered, running a finger down the middle of his defined chest, your mouth running dry. Jax shook his head, biting his bottom lip when you stepped back and unbuttoned your pants, pushing them down your thighs.

It didn’t matter than your underwear didn’t match or that you hadn’t shaved your damn legs in three weeks. 

Jax made you feel like a goddess. He always had.

“What?” he asked, one hand palming the bulge in his jeans.

“Closer to God,” you quipped, a sly smile on your lips and he laughed under his breath, pulling you back against his body.

The rest of your clothes and his came off in between passionate making out, both of you hitting the bed with hands roaming all over the other. Jax was definitely bigger, bulkier,  _ harder _ than he’d been as a teenager and you suddenly realized that your years of wet dreams couldn’t even begin to do him justice.

God, you hadn’t had decent sex in so long.

“Fuck me, Jax,” you begged, gasping when he turned his attention to your breasts, licking, sucking, and biting at the soft mounds until your nipples were hard. His right hand was between your thighs, stroking a single digit along your slit, teasing you.

“You think about me?”

_ Constantly _ .

“Sometimes,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair as he continued to worship your tits. His finger was pressed against your entrance and you hummed, wiggling your hips to try and get some friction. “A lot,” you amended and he chuckled.

“Hmm,” the finger sank inside you and you gasped, tightening your hold on his thick locks, “when?”

You didn’t want to think about it. In that moment, the past didn’t matter - despite the time that had passed, it felt instantaneous from the second you’d been dragged out of this room. Jax was the only thing you’d ever dreamed about and now…

Wasting more time wasn’t an option.

A frustrated growl made you tug at his hair. “I want you,” you hissed, pulling him into a kiss, “I’ve always wanted you.”

Jax grinned, sweeping you away in a kiss, working a second finger inside you. “What do you want?”

“You inside me,” you replied, not missing a beat and moaning loudly when he started to thrust the digits inside you, curling them just right to make your whole body shudder. “Now.”

Withdrawing his fingers, Jax licked them clean, pressing between your thighs, stealing kiss after kiss as he rubbed his cockhead against your pussy. “You’re still bossy,” he scolded and you giggled, hooking your legs around his waist.

He wasn’t expecting the move and grunted in surprise when he landed on his back, his dick pinned between his stomach and your cunt. “Yeah, I am,” you announced, sliding your fingers down his stomach to grasp his cock, lining him up.

The sound he made when you sank down onto him, feeding inch by inch of his shaft into your tight channel, was one you’d covet forever.

Jax looked up at you, groaning when your ass came flush with his thighs, his cock fully seated inside you. It was intense, overwhelming, but it felt so unbelievably right. This was exactly where you were supposed to be.

Slowly, you started to move, rocking back and forth as Jax reached up to cup your tits, pinching and kneading as you rode him. He pulled you down, greedy for your skin against his, his hands sliding down your back to grab your ass, encouraging you to lift up higher.

It had been a long time since you’d done anything this vigorous in the bedroom but judging by the sounds Jax was making, you were doing okay.

“Fuck,” he growled, tipping his head back as you rolled your hips, burying your mouth against his throat to bite gently at his pulsepoint. “Damn, you’re still so fucking good, Y/N…” His praised trailed off as you found the sweet spot, increasing your pace to chase your own end. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he coaxed, “make yourself cum.”

You lifted, straightening your back, pushing him to a deeper angle as you started to come undone, your walls squeezing him.

It only took a second for you to falter and Jax was back on top, holding you close as he took over. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, kissing him as he fucked into you, prolonging the climax. Within minutes, he was spilling into you, gasping in surprise at his own sudden end.

“God,” he groaned, holding his weight off of you as he buried his face in your shoulder. “I really thought I could hold out longer than that.” You giggled, shaking your head.

“After sixteen years?” you murmured, letting your eyes fall closed, your chest heaving. “Trust me, that was beyond amazing.”

Jax pulled away, flopping down beside you, his gaze focused on your face as you tried to catch your breath. “Sixteen years was too long,” he commented softly, making you open your eyes and turn your head to look at him. “Do I get to keep you this time?”

You smiled, leaning over and kissing him gently. “You get to keep me.”


End file.
